


Peeps and Painkillers

by Noelleian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Canon Timeline, Caretaking, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Get Together, Humor, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-First War, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: The war is over and Trowa is taking Quatre home to the circus so that he can recover from his injury in relative peace and quiet. Along the way, he learns so much more about the boy who captured his heart and discovers that true love transcends all the ways in which it can be measured.





	Peeps and Painkillers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! Ahahaha. Anyhoo, this is something I came up with after an inside joke with my husband who came up with the Peeps and Painkillers idea (since I love Peeps and I'm on painkillers for a bad tooth) and I decided to turn my angst into a fic. :3
> 
> This is a two-parter and part two will contain some mild smutz. Hope you like! <3 
> 
> I do not own, please do not sue.

It was spring, close to Easter time when the war ended. Apple trees, cherry blossoms, and magnolias were beginning to sprout colorful blooms which would soon be replaced by leafy foliage. Tulips, daffodils, and crocus were emerging from beneath the ground where they’d taken refuge during the winter months and the dormant brown of the grass was returning to a soft, lush carpet of green. **  
**

It seemed almost symbolic to Trowa. End of the war, beginning of a new era of peace. The beginning of a new life for him. He felt reborn, as if the sins of his past had faded away with the icy, gray chill of winter. A slate wiped clean, the blank pages waiting for a new story to be written, and each new experience would be the ink to fill those pages.  
  
For a life once so dark and dreary and so lacking of something to live for, now it was something he possessed in spades. It was strange to say the least. How he’d come to care for so many in such a short amount of time and stranger even, that they’d come to care for him, too.  
  
He could feel the changes in himself, so profound that it was staggering. How colors seemed brighter, laughter seemed louder. Even the food he ate tasted the way he knew food _should_ taste.  
  
He saw beauty in things he’d never known could be beautiful and he wasn’t the only one to notice that he now had a certain spring in his step when he walked. He smiled more and was complimented multiple times about how handsome he was when he did so which inevitably lead to more smiles and a distinct pinking of his cheeks.  
  
Of course, the one who offered the most flattery was Quatre. The way his angelic face always lit up like a Christmas tree every time Trowa smiled at him was more than enough incentive to keep him smiling for years to come.  
  
Unfortunately, there was a slight snag in his mood due to Quatre’s injury which he’d obtained after Dorothy Catalonia had challenged him to a duel, but the blond’s cheerful attitude about the whole thing couldn’t keep Trowa down for long. Even after a grueling seven hour surgery, doped up on more morphine than was necessary to kill a cow, Quatre had drowsily cracked open those baby blues and managed a tiny smile, causing Trowa to melt into a puddle of goo right there in the post-op recovery room.  
  
After nearly two weeks, Quatre was finally cleared for travel, though he still needed a caregiver until he reached full recovery which was still a few weeks away. Or at least long enough that Sally stopped wringing her hands over the possibility of him tearing the wound open and getting it infected.  
  
There’d been a brief standoff between Trowa and Rashid over who would be taking over Quatre’s convalescence and nursing him back to health. Rashid insisted that Quatre would be well taken care of back at their base in Egypt, but Trowa argued that the raucous Maguanacs were far too rowdy for Quatre to get a decent rest and decided that recovery would be much more conducive if spent with with himself and Catherine. Rashid had stared him down and tried to utilize his formidable size to intimidate Trowa into submission, but his efforts were in vain. Trowa’s green eyes remained steely and his own body was tensed like a sprung trap, ready to defend his claim physically if need be.

It was Quatre who quickly put an end to the confrontation in his softly-spoken, but no-nonsense way that always managed to sway people to see his side of things. Even looking tiny and fragile on the hospital bed, he subdued the escalating situation without breaking a sweat and with a bow of respect, Rashid backed off.

Trowa was still running high on adrenaline with pupils dilated and nostrils flared, but Sally’s arrival immediately broke through the haze of blood thirst as she waved her hand in front of her face and said, “Whew! Smells like testosterone in here.” When Quatre blurted out an involuntary bark of laughter, Trowa’s shoulders sagged and then he, too, succumbed to the humor.

Quatre’s IV was removed a few hours before their departure to Earth and Trowa was given a bottle of Percocet with strict orders to make sure Quatre took them every six hours on the dot. He’d also been told to check under the blond’s tongue to make sure he swallowed them since he’d already been busted trying to hide them there. Quatre had folded his arms over his chest and sulked, but a firm look from both doctor and caregiver stopped his arguments dead in their tracks.

He was still weak on his feet. Slow-moving and clumsy thanks to the painkillers, but Trowa was patient and gentle as he helped him into a flight suit and then led him out of the sick bay to where the shuttles were docked. Sally followed behind with their things packed in a single backpack and said nothing.

Once he’d gotten Quatre, who was already beginning to nod off again, settled into the co-pilot’s seat, he turned to Sally and raised a questioning brow at her smug expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chirped in that particular sing-song voice that always meant something was as far from nothing as it could get. “You just have one hell of a bedside manner,” she amended, handing him the bag.

He blushed and took the bag, mumbling an embarrassed, “Thanks,” before climbing into the transport.

“Especially when it comes to him.”

He turned while in a half-crouch and frowned at her. “What?”

She shrugged in a gesture of faux nonchalance. “Just being observant.”

“...Okay?”

“Oh, come on, Trowa. I’ve watched you break bones on men twice your size with your bare hands.” She waved her hand at the dozing blond. “But you’re different with him.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She pressed her lips together, all traces of good humor disappearing like vapor in a cool breeze. “You’re so gentle with his body, but...I think what really matters is how gentle you are with his heart.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “God, are you dense. What I’m saying is, don’t break his heart.”

Trowa glanced down at Quatre and shook his head. “He’s stronger than that.”

“Perhaps. But when it comes to matters of the heart, even the strongest ones can be destroyed...if the killing blow comes from someone they love.” She held his gaze, making sure he understood the gravity of what she was saying. “He loves you, Trowa.”

“Sally, I don’t -”

“When he was first coming out of anesthesia, before you came in to see him, he kept saying your name. Over and over again. Of course, he has no idea. I didn’t tell him, but...out of all the people he’s ever known and cared for in his life, it was you he remembered in that moment of vulnerability. It was you he called out for. _You_. No one else.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you need to know. Maybe he’ll tell you how he feels, I don’t know. But I’m warning you now, be careful with that heart of his. This world needs it. Some of the best men have been destroyed over a broken heart. Quatre doesn’t deserve that fate.”

 

*******

 

Talk about a load of pressure. Having one’s heart in the palm of your hands was terrifying enough. Having the heart of someone like Quatre in the palm of his hands petrified him, mainly because of the love he felt for the blond in return. Love he didn’t think he knew how to handle. It wasn’t even all that long ago that he’d believed he wasn’t even capable of something as powerful as love, and especially not a love that was so strong, it made him feel like he was drowning.

_Jesus, I’m going to fuck this up so badly. I just know it and then Sally will murder me and hand over what’s left of my mangled carcass to be dissected by her med students._

Not just Sally. Noin would mount his head on her wall if he broke Quatre’s heart and use his body as a rug to rest her weary feet after a long, hard day. Heero would probably use him for target practice. Wufei would sharpen his blades on Trowa’s hide. And Duo...well, as the man had already said, “I own a junkyard, pal. By the time anyone finds you, there won’t be anything left but bones after the buzzards and bugs have had their way with you.”

Not that L2 even had buzzards, but that was beside the point.

Unsurprisingly, his fellow pilots had picked up on their strange relationship ages ago, probably even before Trowa himself was aware there was anything going on.

Okay, _maaaybe_ he kind of, sort of confessed a little of it after hiding out with Duo in Siberia in between missions. Duo had hitched on the back of an old, beaten-down Ford and endured the fifty mile trek in sub zero winds to the tiny, one-horse town of Chersky which consisted of five buildings total, one of which served as an all-in-one grocer, pharmacy, and hunting and fishing license office.

It was actually illegal to buy and sell liquor there due to the isolation of the area, but the store sold it anyway because no one who gave a damn could be arsed enough to go all the way out to Bumfuck, Egypt and freeze their asses off just to issue them a citation.

Needless to say, Duo had returned with a quart of cheap vodka, stuffed inside a paper sack along with a few cans of pork and beans, a giant bag of beef jerky, and a box of fireplace matches.

They’d lucked out. The abandoned cabin they were laying low in not only had a stack of logs in the boiler room, but also an ice shanty situated over a small pond that was only a short walk away. They’d found three pairs of snowshoes in a musty utility closet, two of which fit them perfectly and a pair of fishing poles. After a quick search, they located extra fishing line and repaired the one that was broken, then set out with the bottle of vodka stashed in Duo’s parka.

The vodka not only lowered inhibitions, but also loosened tongues and Trowa found himself talking more than he could ever remember doing at any given time before. He could even admit that he’d enjoyed himself. His fellow pilots were surprisingly easy to get along with and their company was not only welcome, but treasured.

They each brought their own distinctive personalities to the table that made spending time with any of them a wonderfully unique experience.

With Heero, there was a silent camaraderie, an instinctive kinship, a deep sense of brotherhood. Heero was witty and blunt with a dry sense of humor that Trowa could appreciate. He also possessed an admirable eye for detail. Trowa suspected that Heero had a photographic memory, though Heero had never admitted to such.

Duo was laid back, a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Highly adaptable to any situation, a great conversationalist, and he never failed to make Trowa laugh. Duo was full of stories, some of which Trowa was sure were made up, but that somehow made the colorfully tall tales even more of a delight to listen to.

Wufei took some time to warm up to him, but once he did, Trowa was surprised to find him quite talkative. His favored subjects were among the arts as well as literature and philosophy, something he and Trowa had in common. He was also very mild-mannered, when he wasn’t immersed in some righteous outrage, or another, and extremely gracious.

Quatre, well...Quatre was the gift that kept on giving. His knowledge of art, music, and literature was astounding thanks to his upbringing. He was kind, generous, helpful, charismatic, and funny. To Trowa’s surprise, he could even snark with the best of them and thoroughly enjoyed observing the back and forth banter between Duo and the blond.

No matter who he was with, he always felt comfortable enough to be himself and it was because of these boys that he even knew who _he_ was. They had become the family he’d only ever known in dreams that he scarcely remembered when he opened his eyes in the morning. 

Once the Svedka had been half-consumed along with their fresh trout and can of pork and beans warmed by a kettle over the fireplace, Trowa found himself opening up in ways he never thought he could. He talked about his time with the mercenaries, how they’d taken him under their wing and taught him everything they knew.

He talked about his time at the circus. About how he’d taken the job as a way to conceal his identity as a Gundam pilot and earn a little cash on the side and how he’d begun to see it more and more as a place of belonging. A home, maybe even as a family. He talked about Catherine and how she’d practically adopted him as her brother, and then finally, the subject turned to Quatre.

He wasn’t even sure how it happened. Whether it was he who’d brought it up, or Duo, he wasn’t sure, but now when he thought back to that night, he’d somehow known it was inevitable.

“Gotta hand it to that kid,” Duo said, stretching his legs out to warm his socked feet in front of the fire. “Didn’t think he had it in him. Figured the second he broke a nail, he’d be running home to Daddy, but that kid’s got more balls than Heero, I think. Just not in the stupidly suicidal way.” He cackled and took a swig from the bottle before handing it to Trowa.

“When did you first meet him?”

“New Edwards. He flagged me after you took off with Fei. I kept thinkin’, okay this dude’s obviously got the resources, but does he have the cojones?” He snorted and then added, “I thought he was a girl at first and felt him up, you know, just to be sure. I thought he had some kind of binder on, keeping his tits flat, or somethin’, but nope. Flat as a pancake.”

Jealous, Trowa was doing his best attempt at a murderous glare, but after a third of Svedka, it just didn’t have the kind of impact he would have liked. “He let you feel him up?”

Duo barked out a laugh and shook his head as he took the bottle back. “No. He didn’t even know it was comin’ and then he popped me in the jaw. I told him I was just making sure, but I don’t think he believed me. Kid’s got one hell of a left hook, though, I’ll give ‘im that.”

Trowa glowed with silent approval. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have no tact?”

Duo snorted and finished off the bottle. “All the time. Some people find it charming.” He shook the empty bottle in front of Trowa’s face. “You wanna do the honors?”

He smiled, took the bottle, and reared his arm back before pitching it into the fire with all the strength and finesse of a major league baseball player, watching with satisfaction as the glass shattered against the soot-covered stone. They listened to the snaps and pops of the shards as they cracked and began to melt and Trowa suddenly found himself missing the blond terribly.

“I wonder where he is now.”

“Who, Quat? Last I heard, he was in space somewhere. Fei thinks he’s shackin’ up with Heero on L1, but Fei probably knows about as much as we do at this point.”

“Shacking up?”

“Hangin’ out, layin’ low, holed up. You know, like we’re doin’.”

Trowa laid back against the folded up blanket that was serving as a makeshift pillow and folded his hands beneath his head. “I was under the impression that ‘shacking up’ means something sexual.”

Duo chuckled. “And they call _me_ a perv.”

“You _are_ a perv.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Anyway, no. I didn’t mean that they were getting cozy, or fucking, or anything like that.” Trowa winced at the word, ‘fucking’. “Why, you jealous?”

“No,” he said a little too quickly and then turned his head away to hide his blush.

“You are,” Duo insisted, flopping down onto his side and propping his head on his hand. Trowa could feel his grin even though he couldn’t see it. “Ohhhhh...I get it now. You got the hots for blondie.”

“Do not.”

“Oh, man!” Duo rolled onto his back and cackled loudly. “How did I not see this sooner? You totally want to do blondie, hol- _ee_ shit!”

Offended on Quatre’s behalf, he turned an icy glare on his comrade. “No, I don’t want to ‘do’ him. He’s not like that.”

“Oh, please. Don’t you know that the prim and proper ones are the true freaks? Lady in the streets, freak between the sheets, as the sayin’ goes. I’ll bet you the sum of my profits that kid is a wildcat in bed.”

Trowa shifted, slightly uncomfortable talking about Quatre this way, but also too intrigued by the topic to change it. “Assuming he’s even had sex.”

“It’s possible. Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Not surprising. Say...it wasn’t blondie, was it?”

“No! No, I - well, my first partner was one of the mercenaries. The youngest one besides me. He was only two years older than I was at the time. There’s been three others since then. One guy and two girls.”

“Ah, so you swing both ways then, eh?”

“I suppose I do. What about you?”

“I boned Hilde.”

“Who’s that?”

“This chick that tried to recruit me to OZ. She was a civvie who volunteered, but then she quit. We’ve hooked up a few times. I don’t know. We have kind of an off and on thing going.”

“Do you trust her, or do you just get off on sleeping with the enemy?”

“Naw, she’s cool. She’s not with them anymore. I trust her with my life, but we kind of get on each other’s nerves sometimes.”

“I get the feeling it’s you that gets on her nerves.”

“Hey, now. She can be just as annoying, believe me. Ah, she’s a sweet gal. Maybe I’ll ask her to be my ball and chain someday. We’ll have a couple of rugrats and spend our retirement years making sculptures out of old scrap metal.”

“How romantic.”

“Romance is in the eye of the beholder, my friend.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Speaking of which, what’cha gonna do about blondie? Now that is a high class piece right there. Looks, personality, and money. The whole shebang. You play your cards right, you’ll be set up for life, my man.”

“I don’t need him to support me, Duo.”

“Hey, I hear ya. Jus’ sayin’. You could be one of those sugar babies, loungin’ by the pool in a g-string all day while your man’s out workin’.”

“I’m not going to be a kept boy, Jesus Christ. Where do you get these hare-brained ideas?”

Duo shrugged. “I binge-watch Dynasty when I get the chance.”

Trowa snorted and turned onto his side. “Besides, I don’t even know if he’s interested in me like that.”

“You have got to be kidding me. If you haven’t seen - man, if that kid was any more infatuated with you, he’d be humpin’ your leg every time you walked into the room.”

“For Christ's sa - do you have to be so crude?”

“Life is crude, bro. ‘Sides, if you don’t grab that hot ticket while you can, someone else will. Someone like Quat ain’t gonna stay single for long, know what I’m sayin’?”

 

*******

 

Of course, at the time, there was no guarantee that either of them were going to live to see the war end, but now, as he climbed into the transport’s pilot seat, he realized that they’d both done just that. He glanced over at the blond who was snoring softly beside him with his chin nearly touching his chest and couldn’t help but smile.

Peacetime was just beginning and new possibilities lay on the horizon. Was there a chance for two young soldiers who’d found each other in the midst of darkness and despair to make a relationship work? Could this be a romance that was made to last the way poets of long ago had lamented in their sonnets where love was written in the stars? Lovers, soulmates...forever immortalized among the celestial light glittering down from the heavens.

It seemed almost too good to be true.

But the fact that they were both still here, right now, at this moment in time when the odds had been stacked against them for so long seemed like a sign from above. A ringing endorsement that yes, it could happen and yes, he’d better get his ass in gear because if he missed his chance, he may never get another.

“Come on, Quat,” he murmured to his sleeping passenger. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
